The Divergent Games V: Hand to Hand Combat
by Renee Belladonna
Summary: Blake has voiced his opinion- Renee needs to test her abilities in hand to hand combat. But how well can she master such an art against someone who has more skill then her?


Fall is when we harvest most of our crops. Apples, asparagus, cabbage, cantaloupe, carrots, bell peppers- I could go on forever. I was always one for going up in the orchards to harvest such things like oranges, cherries, pears, lemons or limes. Kelli liked to stay on the ground when we were put to work in the fields. Somehow, however, we always found a way to be together.

At least until a painful day when I was accused of stealing a bushel of corn.

Kelli knew I hadn't done it. It was somewhere in September or October a few years back, before Tyson had been born. A man in the fields wrongly told the Officials that I had made off with my own basket- and this man was also once a stalker of my mother. When my mother had told him to get lost and planted hard sucker punch in his jaw, he took out his anger on me. My mother and I are pretty similar in strength, but from her days as a gang member, she's had more experience than I had.

So as my punishment, I was immediately ripped from my home and sentenced to be whipped in front of the entire district. I received twenty lashes- and the scars on my back prove it. My mother was put in jail for two months and I was forced to live with Kelli at that time. I'm lucky I wasn't shot then and there for what I had been accused of. If my mother and I were poor and not of higher middle class, I would have been, and she would have been the one to receive the whippings- only thirty of them.

I don't know why exactly this memory fills my head on this morning, but it seems to get me up. Blake knock on the door and shouts for me to wake up, so I eagerly do. Anything to keep my mind off my past. But something else pangs against my skull. When I was being cleansed and dressed for the Opening Ceremonies two days ago, my cosmetologists nor my blunt and forthright stylist had commented on those nasty marks on my back. Why?

I make my way over to the bathroom and give my hair a quick brush before washing my face and brushing my teeth. I tie my hair back in a simple big and messy bun, then staring at myself in the mirror. I have a long nose with a slight bump in the bone and a rounded tip, and my lips are full and pink. Brows and lashes thick and dark, my cheek bones undefined and my bright blue eyes having their own natural glow. I stick some studs into the six piercings I have in each ear and walk out of the bathroom, only to find the expected apparel for Training. Dauntless wear tight black shirts with short sleeves and long black pants that you would tuck into the brown boots everyone had to wear. I pull on my outfit and leave the room, heading out for breakfast.

To my surprise, four more have joined us in the dining room on this morning. I immediately recognize them as Cameron's style crew- three men from Amity and another from Candor. They seem to be exactly alike my group, only in male form. The four turn to see me entering the area, looks of disgust or curiosity beginning to paint across their made-up faces. I stop in my tracks and send them all a death glare and a scowl.

"What? Was I not invited?" I spit out, the corner of my lips going up in distaste. The Candor man crosses his arms and leans on one leg, a single eyebrow raised as he scans my body.

"Are you sure you're the District 11 Dauntless female?" he questions, which sends a look of amusement across the other three men's features.

"Are you sure you're the male stylist from Candor?" I ask back, mimicking him by crossing my own arms over my chest and tapping my foot impatiently. "Because with that attitude you could be a Erudite female undercover." I stomp towards the table, making sure my shoulder made hard contact with his when I brushed past. I heard a few sounds of resentment from the Candor man, but noises of acknowledgement from the Amity men. I sit down next to Blake, who's already working on his food.

"Normally I argue peace with disagreements between the people," he whispers, then pushing a forkful of eggs between his lips. He chews and swallows before speaking again. "But I would take your side in that one." he nudges me with his elbow before continuing to eat his food, which is soon laid out in front of me from an Avox. Eggs sunny side up with thin slices of ham underneath of them, and strips of pigs meat laid out next to them. Toast comes on another plate, as well as a goblet of apple cider and a small glass of milk.

Cameron quickly enters the room after I've began at my food, sitting across from me, receiving a slightly larger portion than myself. The stylists and cosmetologists all sit at the end of the table, making small talk as they eat. My crew from Amity seems much less focused on Blake this morning, and more on the men that sit across from them. Well they're just some love sick beings, aren't they?

Blake, Cameron and I barely talk throughout the meal, rarely even looking at each other as well. After we were finished, we waited a few minutes before finally being escorted to the elevator. Cameron and I got in, not speaking to each other until the end.

"Well you're just a big show off, aren't you?" Blake asks, his arms crossed as he glowers at the elevator doors in front of him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I spit out, turning my head to send a death glare at him. Without realizing it, I find that we're in the same posture and stance. I guess that's what comes from being a Dauntless.

"I mean yesterday during Training. Your whole fight with the Trainer at the Swords Station. You may have had him fooled with your antics, but I wasn't. It was obvious that you were just begging for attention by letting him get a hold around your neck. I know a bluff when I see one." he goes on, and my ears pop. We're getting close to the Training Hall that's several floors beneath the ground. "And why didn't you go for the clubs?"

I send him a strange look. "First of all, I'm not a bluff. And second, what clubs?" I question seriously, and he opens his mouth to answer, but before he can the doors of the elevator slide open and we're sent into the Training Hall. Most everyone is already there, and the last few arrive in the next couple of minutes. I get away from Cameron as far as I can, and somehow, I end up standing next to a tall and muscular man from Candor. Thankfully, not my Trainer from yesterday, but another tribute. He looks at me and then grins, his eyes wandering my body. The thought makes me self conscious, and I take a few steps away from him as I pretend to look at all the stations. What's he doing? Seeing which limb he wants to chop off during the Games?

"You're the stunning girl from District 11," he states confidently, causing me to turn my head to him with parted lips and furrowed brows. My expression makes him laugh a bit, his grin growing wider. "My name is Nicanor Evans, I'm from District 2." he introduces himself with pride, as if I should be impressed or something. My eyes scan his features- dirty blonde hair, cropped short and spiked a bit at the front, blazing green-yellow eyes, a long and straight nose, dark brows and thin lips. Overall, as I look up at him, he's definitely attractive. He holds out his hand, staring deeply and intently into my bright blue eyes.

"Renee Belladonna." I reply bluntly, shaking his hand. I definitely feel a bit small compared to this guy- he's obviously trained in the art of murder way more than I am. Because he's from the Career districts, mostly. You're not supposed to train when you're not in the Games, but Districts 1, 2 and 4 do it anyway, so by the time they offer up tributes, they've already got the lead chance at winning.

"Gorgeous name, if I do say so myself." he smiles wickedly at me, placing a hand on my shoulder which makes me cringe. I don't like it when people touch me. "I saw you Training yesterday... You're pretty lethal, and some of my buddies have noticed that." he nods his head behind him, and I take a step back to see around his body. About thirty yards away, two other tributes stand watching us. One is a male from Erudite, shorter than Nicanor, but just as burly. He has curly dark hair and a hardened expression. The other is a tall girl, even taller than me, with long auburn hair tied over her shoulder in a sloppy braid. Looking a bit closer, I can see that she's Erudite as well- the only Erudite female. I turn back to look at Nicanor.

"So I'm guessing that you're letting me know that I'm a target now?" I ask with a single brow raised, my eyes wide with curiosity and a twinge of resentment. I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot a bit.

"No," he laughs a bit, as if it was funny. "We want you in our alliance." he states, which makes me wince a bit. Why would Careers want a District 11 in their pack? Usually it only means bad reputation back home. He leans in close to my ear; his hot breaths beating against my neck, making shivers go up my spine and goose bumps along my skin. "Just think about it. The majority of us could get out alive. And you and I..." I can hear a sinister smile in his voice, which creeps me out just a bit but also causes my expression to soften. "We could see each other more often." he pulls away and his long and soft fingers brush some loose pieces of hair out of my face and behind my ear. I narrow my brows, giving him a questioning look, but he just grins and walks off towards his allies. I turn away and roll my eyes, feeling like I just exited a trance.

I glance around- no one was watching, but all of the tributes have dispersed and moved to stations. I shake my head and wiggle my arms a bit, then glancing up at the Gamemakers who stare at everyone from above. To my surprise, a lot of their eyes are on either me or the Careers. I look away and my eyes immediately fall upon what Cameron had been speaking of earlier.

Across the room I see an individual station filled with clubs, bats and hammers. I begin walking towards it, but immediately stop myself. Should I really exploit my strengths? No, I need to work on my weaknesses. I turn away from that station, hoping that no one saw me looking at it. Somehow I end up at the Throwing Knives Station, along with a few other tributes. The Trainer sends me a glance of acknowledgement, but continues working with the others, so I take a few knives in my hands and begin practicing. I'm able to hit some of the targets, but it's extremely difficult, and my aim is poor. I experienced that yesterday at the Spears Station that I'm terrible at long distance aiming. But I'm even worse with knives- I can't seem to get that desired spin on them that causes accuracy.

After about an hour, I finally give up and place my hands on my hips. I watch the other tributes go at it as I catch the little breath that had escaped while practicing, and my vision connects with the Hand to Hand Combat Station. My mind wanders, and within moments, I'm standing in front of the station wide eyed. Shockingly, I'm the only tribute there. I whirl around when someone taps me on the shoulder- a young man dressed in Dauntless clothing- my Trainer for this station.

"I thought I might see you at this station." he says in a low voice, brushing past me and pulling on a pair of fingerless gloves. "Saw you yesterday at the Swords Station. No one came to this place, so I was simply watching the tributes." he shrugs and walks to the mat. I shake my head, clearing my mind, and roll my neck a few times before I pull on a pair of gloves as well and take a fighting stance on the mat across from my Trainer. He's professionally trained in this art- I'm not. Well, this will end well, won't it? "You may have the first move, Renee Belladonna."

I take in a deep breath through my mouth, and then have a personal moment to scan his body. His fists are up in the air, blocking his chin. He's ready for a facial attack. His arms and elbows shield his neck and chest- he knows it would be a stupid move to go for his stomach. His legs are planted firmly on the ground, so firmly that he wouldn't be able to jump up, nor would he be able to withstand a confrontation either. I look back up at his eyes, and then down at his stomach just to fool him. He prepares himself, and in that split second I have, I fall backwards onto my hands and swing my feet swiftly and accurately at his ankles. To my surprise and delight, I've caught him off guard. He falls backwards, but with such grace that he lands on his palms and flips back into a standing position.

I lunge forward at him and go in to plant one straight in his jaw, but he brings up his arm too fast and blocks it. He uses his free hand to drive a fist right into my abdomen, which makes me wince, but I clear it away as fast as I can. As soon as I open my eyes, I'm greeted by a punch in the neck, which causes me to stumble backwards. My vision seems to be black around the edges, but I stand my ground. He advances towards me, and I block his next hit- a jab at the eye- but weakly. I'm breaking down and he knows it. No, I refuse to go down like this. To go down like I have no dignity.

He uses his right hand to try and have another hard one at my neck, but I jut backwards so that it's a lesser hit at my collar bone. I ignore it, however, and grab hold of his shoulders with a tight as hell grip, despite my current condition. The moment after I do this, before he can even react, I shove my knee into his stomach. While he's responding to the pain, I grasp his shoulders tighter and wrench him so hard that I'm able to throw him to the ground. Without knowing it, a drop of blood drips onto his throat. My mouth is bleeding.

I pin him to the ground and slam my head against his, trying my best not to notice the way it makes my vision even darker. I don't know why I do the next thing I do, but I glance up for a moment, and my eyes meet those of the Gamemakers'. Their vision is locked with mine, but I've gotten distracted. My Trainer has gotten his bearings, and now he uses his strength to roll over so that he's on top of me. Before I know it, he's landed another fist right in my cheek, and then everything goes dark.

"So you weren't bluffing after all." a low and masculine hovers over me, and I have to blink and roll my eyes a few times to gain sight back to its full potential. I take in a few deep breaths before my wide and wandering eyes fall upon Cameron who looks down at me.

I glance around- I'm still in the Training Hall, but a few Trainers hang around me. There's the man from the Plant Identification Station, the Trainer I had been fighting with, and a few more I do not recognize. I rub my forehead- no, bad idea. That hurts like hell.

I slowly sit up, holding myself into a sitting position with my hands planted hard on the ground behind me. Waiting for the dizziness to clear, I look around to see the tributes finishing up at the stations, some of their stares shooting my way.

"You should take her back to your floor. Training is almost finished, anyway." one of the men says, nodding at Cameron. Cameron sighs and stands, pulling me to my feet. How long was I out? If training is almost over, a couple hours obviously. Cameron and I keep an arm wrapped around each other to support my weight in my fuzzy-headed condition, and he makes his way towards the large entry doors of the Training Hall. Before we leave, I glance back to see my Trainer shaking his head at me, as well as Nicanor sending me an odd look with his arms crossed and his chin up. I turn away, forcing myself to only focus on getting back to the eleventh floor of the Training Center.

** End**

**Chapter 5**

** The Divergent Games**


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